


Drunken Confessions (Of a sort)

by LeafZelindor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Gift Fic, JohnlockChallenges Exchange, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Smut, Stag Night, bottom!John, reapersun, sherlock molests john's scar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:57:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafZelindor/pseuds/LeafZelindor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Johnlock challenges valentines exchange 2014.<br/>I was given the chance to write for the amazing artist Reapersun.<br/>She requested Smut. More Details inside, but Stag Night Smut it is, to the best I could manage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Confessions (Of a sort)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reapersun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapersun/gifts).



> for http://reapersun.tumblr.com/ For the Johnlock Challenges Valentines Exchange. ReaperSun's prompt was: “anything from this chuuface.tumblr.com/secretpromptspage One of the prompts was Drunk/Stag Night Sex. (Sorry I didn't do any of the monster prompts. I wasn't sure how to handle any of them! Though some of them sounded interesting!) I hope she finds my rendition of what we all wanted to happen instead of what really happened with Stag Night enjoyable.

When Molly had refused to help him, citing his own background in chemistry, Sherlock admitted he thought it would be as simple as all that, chemistry. He'd gone home, created an app for his phone, plugged in all the information himself. He thought he knew the perfect combination of time and drinking to keep things under control. To give John the best stag night he could. He thought he was brilliant for bringing a pair of graduated cylinder's to measure the perfect amount of beer for each of them to consume at each stop. He'd planned for John needing to go to the loo, he'd planned for almost everything, except for shots. At the fourth place, a girl came over and asked what they were celebrating. Giggling over their drink-ware. John had been more than happy to inform her, due to his state of, slight inebriation. The girl had insisted on buying shots for them both. Sherlock had tried to refuse, but upon seeing John's glee at the attention he allowed it. Briefly tapping at his phone to try to compensate for the new ingredient. 

The eighth place John all but hauled him out of. Sherlock had been trying to explain to a very annoying young man how the cigars he was smoking could in no way be cuban. John felt it prudent to drag him away though.

“International reputation,” Sherlock found himself slurring. The stairs to the flat were surprisingly comfortable. “that's what I've got...”

“mmnn?” John was warm at his side, his breathing steady. 

“Do you have an international reputation?” Sherlock managed to ask. John snorted and shifted next to him.

“Mnnn, no.” He murmured sleepily. Then Sherlock startled him with a laugh.

“Yes you do.” Sherlock twisted to half look at his best friend, his dearest friend. “*Three* *Continents* *Watson*” He carefully annunciated each word. John started to giggle now. “How did you, get such a reputation?”

“Mmm, Because I liked to fu*ck*.” John said the last word with an extra loud click on the last syllable. “The army was a great place for it.”

“But surely that limited your female companions...” Sherlock mused, he let his eyes trail over the darkened ceiling.

“Yeah, but the pretty men were nice too.” John shifted, then frowned as they heard the door of 221 A open. They both twisted slightly to the sight of Mrs. Hudson with the rubbish bags in hand.

“Oh! What are you two doing back? I thought you'd be late...” Mrs. Hudson asked, clicking her tongue a little at them. She was such a mother hen.

“Ah! Hudders, what time is it?” Sherlock asked. John found himself fighting the urge to giggle at the nickname. Mrs. Hudson sighed and checked her watch.

“You've only been two hours.” She announced, then moved to go past them. John shifted and Sherlock moved two, both meaning to get up. A bout of giggled left them as they found they couldn't stand at the same time. Sherlock actually slid down a step. He squirmed around and blinked at John. John who was grinning drunkenly and watching him with, with an expression he wasn't sure he could name. He felt an urge to lean up and kiss the other man.

“Mm Well... Two hours isn't much.” John mumbled. “Let's get another drink shall we?”

“mm? Oh yes.” Sherlock shifted to pull himself up. Offering a hand to John. The shorter man hesitated, then with a shrug reached to accept it. Sherlock stumbled backwards as he pulled John up, the small blogger stumbled into him, it was automatic. Sherlock bumped the wall, his arms going around John, all but crushing the blond to his chest. John let a giggle leave him, the shorter man shifted, nose brushing against Sherlock's neck some. Sherlock started to tighten his arms a little but then felt John rock away and silently released him. The other man grinned and turned almost perfectly, starting to walk up the steps. Sherlock paused to stare at the denim covered arse in front of him. He didn't usually openly oogle John. Perhaps he shouldn't drink more. John wanted to drink more, and this was the shorter man's stag night. He should get what he wanted.

Upstairs John was digging around for glasses, a bottle of scotch was already on the counter. Sherlock flopped into his chair and just watched the other man move. It was almost slow motion which allowed him to admire John's movements. John was beautiful. Perfect. He wasn't as normal as everyone thought. He was, determined. Oh Sherlock knew he'd fallen hard for this man. Now John would be leaving him, going to set up a real life with Mary. If only he could have one night. John returned to him, holding out a tumbler of scotch. Sherlock took it, trying not to visibly shiver as their fingers brushed. John hmmed softly and settled into his chair. “We should play a game.” The blond announced. 

“What sort of game?” Sherlock asked curiously. John knocked back a healthy swallow of the scotch and then put the tumbler down. It sloshed slightly. Sherlock grinned. Mrs. Hudson would be angry in the morning. John shifted to dig through things, cheerfully finding some discarded rizla papers. He pulled out one and pushed it and a pen into Sherlock's hands.

“Write a name.” He announced, hiding his own bit of the rolling paper and scribbling on it. Sherlock blinked, then chuckled. He'd heard of this game. Never had a friend to play it with. He frowned and then glanced at the papers, looking for a name to write down.

“Come on Sherlock!” John sounded a bit impatient. His voice almost pouty. Sherlock finally found a name and wrote it out in block letters. He vaguely recognized it. Reaching out he pressed the paper to John's forehead, making the doctor laugh a little bit. The blond reached up and stuck one to Sherlock's forehead too. He couldn't help trying to look up at it. The slightly cross eyed look made John giggle harder. Sherlock flopped back. John settled into his chair as well and took another drink. “mm So, am I a vegetable?”

Sherlock found himself giggling at the question. He took a drink then pointed at John. “You or the thing?”

This caused more giggles for them both. Oh John was so beautiful when he was happy. “Oh funny.” John giggled a little more. Sherlock couldn't help ducking his head some. He felt a rush of pleasure going through him.

“Thank you..” He murmured, then took another drink quickly. John managed to banish his giggles and shifted across from him.

“Come on..” He coaxed. Sherlock let himself look back up to study John just a bit, taking in the look of pleasure on his face.

“Mm. No, You're not a vegetable.” He informed now, Sherlock was pretty certain his voice was slurring. He hadn't drank that much had he? He watched lazily as John picked up his own glass.

“Your go.” John announced, taking a drink. God he looked good. Sherlock frowned to himself and tilted his head as he thought.

“Mm, Am I human?” He started with. Get the obvious out of the way of course. Excellent deduction.

“Sometimes.” John announced. Sherlock gave him a bit of a funny look. Why wouldn't John stay still!

“Can't be... “sometimes.”” Sherlock shifted, trying to sit up properly. “Has to be um..” What was the phrase he wanted. He hardly noticed John slumping in his own seat. The blond gave him a yes though. Triggering the rest of his thought. “Yes or no.. Okay.” He nodded his head jerkily. He let himself surge forward some. Resting his arms on his legs as he considered John. “And am I a man?”

“Yep.” John answered shortly, a little grin was on the doctor's face.

“Tall?” Sherlock inquired. He wanted to giggle as John held his hands out pretty far apart.

“Not as tall as people think.” The blond informed. Sherlock studied him. Wondering if John's face would give it away.

“mm, nice?”

“Ish”

“Clever?”

“I'd say so.” John sounded pleased with that statement. Sherlock hadn't picked up anything from his expression.

“You would?” Sherlock prodded, this earned him a chuckle from John. A lovely chuckle. He just wanted to bottle it up. Oh yes, the game. “Mm, am I important?”

“To s... some people.” John stumbled over his words some. His cheeks were red from drinking, his eyes half closed.

“Do “people”” Sherlock paused actually lifting his hands to make the air quotes around the second word. He chewed down a giggle at the absurdity of it all. “like me?” He finished finally. John shifted to reach for his glass again but didn't actually pick it up.

“Er, no, they don't. You tend to rub 'em up the wrong way.” John informed. Sherlock muttered some sort of agreement. For a moment he slumped back in the chair, staring at John as he contemplated. John had the giggles over his statement. Sherlock smirked lightly and leaned back forward.

“Am I the current King of England?”

This apparently cracked John up completely. The blond laughedfor a long moment. “You know we don't have a king?” He informed as he caught his breath.

“Don't we?” Sherlock blinked some. It must have been deleted at some time.

“No.” John chuckled again. Sherlock straightened himself up and waved a hand at John.

“Your go.” John took a drink and then sat himself up. He shifted forward in his chair, a little further than he intended. To Sherlocks's surprise, and pleasure John reached out to steady himself with a hand to the taller man's knee. John shifted to push himself back upright. Their eyes met. John was drunk, but not so drunk he couldn't tell some invisible line was being pressed. Sherlock wanted to break past it. Before John's hand could pull away, his own long fingers moved to curl around it. Drink's forgotten. The purpose of their night forgotten. All that mattered was that John was here, they were here. John shifted forward again, this time letting himself fall out of the chair, but his body was angled up, his hand supporting and warm on Sherlock's knee. Sherlock leaned forward, almost startled with the force with which their mouth's met. Delicious scotch flavored John. The kiss was hardly gentle. There was so much between them, much that needed saying. 

John shifted again, pushing Sherlock back against his chair. His body relaxed easily under the touch. Their tongues tangling together. John surged up to settle into his lap, hands moving to fumble at the buttons of Sherlock's shirt. Teeth tugged at Sherlock's lower lip, he moaned automatically. His hands slid to pull the back of John's shirt up, wanting to touch skin. He needed to taste, memorize. This would be likely his only chance. He had to catalogue everything while he could. Their lips separated, but John was already attacking his neck. Sherlock tilted his head automatically for the blond, his own hands had finally gotten fabric aside, fingers sliding over warm skin. John growled as he tried to make more contact between their bodies.

“Bedroom” Sherlock found himself breathing. John grunted and pulled back, unsteadily putting himself on his feet. The blond grabbed his hand and pulled. Sherlock shifted up, for a moment he almost fell forward, instead his arms slid around John and pulled him in for another kiss. One which was met with enthusiasm. He yanked up on John's jumper and shirt. John grunted and shifted, breaking the kiss long enough to pull the fabric over his head before his mouth was attacking Sherlock's neck again. Arms resettling themselves, one hand trying to get at Sherlock's shirt which still was mostly on him. John left little delicious bites. Not to hard, but enough of a promise. Sherlock bit back a whimper and pushed John towards the bedroom. They had to get that far. John was surprisingly clingy when drunk and horny. Sherlock wasn't complaining, he just wanted to make sure the other didn't trip. Slender hands gripped firmly at John's hips and guided him backwards. Briefly the taller man let himself bite his friend's ear. John moaned and pulled back, his eyes were mostly closed, but Sherlock could see how much he was enjoying this. He dipped his head to claim another kiss, pushing John down onto the bed. The blond pulled him down eagerly hands dragging over his skin, fingers brushing scars. Sherlock pulled back his jacket sliding from his shoulders, he moved to get his shirt off. His eyes trailed over John. 

“Sherlock.” John grabbed at him, those lovely skilled hands squeezing Sherlock's hips and pulling him onto the bed. Sherlock moved with, crawling over John easily, his head dropping to brush kisses over pale skin. Under his clothing John was beautifully pale. “Sherlock?”

“John, let me do this for you.” Sherlock murmured against his stomach. John shivered and blinked at him for a few moments. “Please...”

“Yes.” That was all Sherlock needed to hear. He kissed his way up John's chest. He detoured briefly to swipe his tongue over the scaring on John's shoulder. The injury that had brought them together. John shivered under his touch. He wished he could be inside John's head right now. Fingers slid up his back and tangled with dark curls. John moaned softly as Sherlock gently swirled his tongue over the webbed scar, letting it explore the small dip in the middle. “Oh god Sherlock.” John whined softly. Fire flickered teasingly through the doctor's veins. Nobody ever touched him like this. He'd never wanted anyone to touch him like this. Sherlock's hands, Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock's delightful mouth molesting his scar. “Fuck me.” John found himself pleading. Sherlock kissed him deeply, their hips coming together, Sherlock's hands on his belt. Sherlock was pleased with John's response. 

Trousers pulled down Sherlock lowered his head and John rocked up some as he felt a tongue dragging over his prick. Sherlock tasted slowly, teasing, he coaxed soft whimpers from John's throat as he let his tongue map out the contour and flavor of the other man. Sherlock's fingers gently curled around to pull the foreskin back. His tongue swept up to swirl onto newly bared skin. John shuddered under his touch, rocking up, the sensitive skin was electric. The feeling of that warm questing tongue made his toes curl and one hand clawed at the bedding for a few moments. Then that beautiful, perfect mouth had engulfed him. John rocked into it, feeling how Sherlock's lips tightened, the sucking motion. It was only perfect for a few moments, before Sherlock took more than he could handle and gagged slightly. Pulling back the brunet blinked some. John laughed softly and tugged lightly at his curls. “Not so much this time. All good otherwise.” He coaxed. Sherlock blushed some and leaned down to kiss the sensitive head briefly, tongue flicking out to lap gently at pre-cum. “Fuck... Sherlock...”

Sherlock was delighted with the noises, with John's reactions. It was perfect. The blond was encouraging, sounded desperate, and more than distracted when Sherlock stopped sucking and told him hoarsely to “turn over.” John rolled automatically. Sherlock's coaxing hands got him to his knees and the brunet leaned in to kiss each cheek lightly, then nuzzled slowly between, tongue flicking out to caress the puckered hole. John made a startled noise and a shudder went through his form. Sherlock did it again, this time pressing his tongue in a little bit.

“Fuck Sherlock...” John shifted, but only to spread his legs some more. It was encouraging. Sherlock pushed his tongue in properly now, letting it wiggle some. John made a strange moaning noise, he wished he could see the doctor's face. However making John tremble under this touch was far more interesting at the moment. John all but melted under the questing of Sherlock's tongue. It made him want more, he actually pushed back at one point, and he whined as Sherlock pulled his face away. He wanted to tell him to get back to it, when a slender finger replaced the wiggling appendage. The finger pushed deeper than Sherlock's tongue had. The finger was moving, crooking carefully and John gasped as fire shot through his veins. Two fingers now, slicked with some sort of lubricant, they stretched carefully. John pushed back on shaking arms. He needed that feeling again. The fire in his veins. Sherlock was pressing kisses up his spine as the fingers worked inside of him.

“I am going to fuck you into this mattress John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock breathed hot against his ear. John whimpered softly. He needed this, he needed Sherlock, now. “You will only think of me.” Sherlock's voice growled, low, delicious.

“Yes, please.. please Sherlock!” John jerked a little as his agreement was rewarded with another press against his prostate. The fingers pulled away though, and there was a rustling of fabric. A soft thump as the trousers Sherlock had been wearing finally landed on the floor of the bedroom. John almost protested about the absence of the other man's body when Sherlock draped himself back over John's back. Heavy warmth. He felt Sherlock's prick against the inside of his thigh. He moaned and rocked back briefly. Sherlock's hand was steadying on his hip. The other man kissed the back of his neck, then shifted and John felt something thicker than two fingers pressing just a little into him. His eyes closed, he tried to relax properly. Sherlock had been good about not marking him up at this point, but he felt the man bury his face against John's shoulder and shifted some. “Go....Go ahead.” He breathed. He needed it. Anticipation was to much.

“John.” Sherlock's voice was like a soft plea. He pushed in quickly, pressing deep. John couldn't help the gasp of surprise, his body stretched to accomodate the new intrusion. There was a slight ache already, one which told John he'd feel it in the morning. He didn't care. “Oh god John.” Sherlock panted, rolling his hips slowly. To encourage the other not to take to long John rocked into it, letting Sherlock sink deeper, brushing his prostate, not enough to do much but enough to make John whine lowly. Sherlock couldn't move slowly, not now, not with the drink in him, the noises that John was making. The detective shifted, grasping the doctor's hips and starting to move quickly. He needed more now. So much more. John whimpered and moved with him, against him. It was frantic, desperate. Their only chance. Sherlock's lips trailed, his hand moved under John to grasp and stroke again. Quickly this time, not teasing. Neither of them would be long in this state. Sherlock could tell when John was getting close, the way the blond moved back harder, the way his muscles tensed. It was perfect how John squirmed and then cried out his name, spilling messily into Sherlock's hand and onto the sheets. Sherlock moved to grasp his hips, pulling back to get the best angle as he thrust into John hard several more times before he let himself come inside.

They collapsed in a messy tangle. Sherlock panting softly against John's back. John shifting some, trying to press harder into his chest. Neither tried to pull apart. At least not for a few minutes, as everything washed over them and slowly the intensity of the feelings between them relaxed. John slowly shifted away, rolling himself around to face Sherlock. The blond leaned up and chastely pressed his lips to Sherlock. He smelled of scotch, sweat, and sex. Sherlock savored how it enhanced the natural smell of John Watson. Slowly he curled his arm around John. He sighed softly against dampened blond hair. He felt John's lips move against his chest, but didn't pick up what he said.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled at John briefly. Surprised how well he liked cuddling with John like this. He never though he'd like cuddling. None of his previous experience had involved it.

“Thank you.” John sighed a bit, tilting his head back some. “You are, so important to me Sherlock.” His voice was a bit slurred still and he sounded sleepy. Sherlock simply hugged him closer. His John. No matter what.

“And you to me John.” He agreed. He got no response. John had fallen asleep. Sherlock relaxed and stoked his back slowly. He didn't want to disturb the other. “I love you. Even if you're marrying her. I will still love you John.” All in all, he hoped it was a good Stag Night.

Out in the hall, Mrs Hudson shooed a young woman back down the stairs. Telling her she'd have to come back. The boys simply were to far busy to see her tonight. She understood right? The girl agreed to return in the morning and headed out. Mrs Hudson glanced up the stairs with a little shake of her head. Those two really needed to work on timing.


End file.
